


Love In A Cold Chalet

by Clea2011



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Holiday Fic Exchange, Holidays, Love Confessions, M/M, Modern Era, christmas markets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22010623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clea2011/pseuds/Clea2011
Summary: Arthur hated Christmas. But, most of all, Arthur hated the Camelot Christmas Markets.He didn't think much of the clumsy oaf who'd tripped him up the day before the markets started either.At least, not at first...
Relationships: Gwen/Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 51
Kudos: 327
Collections: Merlin Holidays 2019





	Love In A Cold Chalet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainbow_porcupine_ninja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbow_porcupine_ninja/gifts).



> Dear rainbow_porcupine_ninja, thank you for your prompts. I took the one about Arthur being Merlin's boss and gave it a seasonal twist - I do hope like what I've done with it. The very happiest of holidays to you!  
> Thank you to W for the super fast beta, and to the mods for their infinite patience and for running this fabulous fest every year. <3

Arthur hated Christmas.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He enjoyed the parties and he enjoyed the few days off work for the holidays. He even quite liked spending time with his family on the big day itself although he’d never admit that in a million years. And by family he really just meant his sister, because their father wasn’t exactly a fun person.

No, what Arthur hated about Christmas was the horrible change that came over Camelot in the run-up to the holiday. All the herds of shoppers marching the streets so that he couldn’t even walk the short distance from his flat to his office at Pendragon Antiques without them blocking his way. He also hated the office secret santa because that was just stupid and not secret at all when there were so few of them and Morgana always fixed it so that she got him and bought him something really embarrassing. And he hated the buskers who stood around warbling Christmas carols instead of the far preferable range of old pop songs that they sang the rest of the year.

But, most of all, Arthur hated the Camelot Christmas Markets.

The markets ran for three weeks in December, and as far as Arthur was concerned that was three weeks of pure hell. His flat was situated right in the middle of them. He hadn’t realised how awful this would be when he’d bought the place. In fact, the horrible, evil woman that he’d bought it from had actually mentioned it as a plus point. As far as Arthur was concerned it should have been listed under the ‘things that may spoil your enjoyment of this property’ section of the property information form. But no. And because the wretched woman had mentioned it in the particulars he couldn’t even claim that he hadn’t known and wanted compensation.

To be fair, the rest of the year it was hugely convenient and comfortable. Situated on the first floor of a listed building in the quaintest part of the city, it was close to absolutely everything. Plus he’d got a space permanently rented in the secure office car park so there were no issues with that. No, aside from the dreadful markets there was nothing that Arthur disliked about his home. But for three weeks of the year, living and working there was absolutely horrific.

The trouble was, nobody else agreed with him.

His sister Morgana absolutely loved them. Her girlfriend Gwen was really into baking and she ran one of the chalets selling Christmas-themed baked treats. It was one of the most popular stalls. Morgana herself had set up a hand-crafted jewellery and ornaments business, and it was doing very well. The markets had given it a major boost over the past few years, because who wouldn’t want to buy overpriced pretentious ornaments for their trees as a special souvenir of their time spent squished in the crowds at Camelot markets. Somehow Morgana and Gwen always managed to get stalls next to each other. To add to the romantic cheesiness, running those stalls at the markets was even how the two of them had met.

It meant Morgana wasn’t in the office for three weeks in December and Arthur had to cover a lot of her work.

Admittedly, December was generally a quieter time of the year at work, and anyway as far as Arthur could see Morgana didn’t actually do anything practical anyway. No, her role consisted of business drinks and lunches and meetings with potential clients at their houses (again often with drinks and lunches). She was supposed to evaluate possible sales and generally inspire confidence in the company.

Morgana didn’t organise the actual sales and auctions themselves – that was Arthur and his deputy, Leon. She didn’t arrange payments to or from customers – that was Arthur and his finance guru, Mithian. Nor did she deal with enquiries or complaints – that was Arthur and his customer liaison manager Elyan. Really, Arthur did everything. Especially since their father had semi-retired and was spending most of his time out on the golf course. Or, at that time of year, in the bar at the golf club with his friends.

So, Morgana’s work was fairly easy to cover. Her creepy little assistant Mordred took over all of the client liaisons anyway (which would probably add to December being a quiet period for business, Arthur privately thought). But it was the principle of the thing. Morgana and Uther didn’t even ask him any more, just assumed that he would cover.

The trouble was, they were right. Just another reason for Arthur to dislike the festive season.

\---

Christmas started in November.

November 1st, to be exact. That was the day that all the Halloween decorations and sweets and things were marked down to half price in the shops, and moved back to make way for full-on Christmas.

To be fair, most of the shops had been selling Christmas decorations since September, but November 1st seemed to be the day they really let rip. The Christmas sandwiches had arrived with a vengeance in all the cafes and takeaways. And the lights were going up across all the main streets.

Arthur shuddered, and trudged past it all, trying to ignore it. Soon, very soon, those sheds would be appearing. And then for three weeks Camelot would be hell on earth.

Unless, you know, you liked Christmas and Christmas markets and not being able to move in the city centre, and all the roads in and out being blocked up all the time and all that. Arthur didn’t.

“Lunchtime meeting!” Morgana announced, sailing breezily past Arthur’s office after a particularly gruesome commute in mid-November. (Admittedly, Arthur’s commute involved walking down a quaint side street, then the high street, then another main street that led straight to his office. He could do it in four minutes on a really good day. That day had taken nearly fifteen. The Christmas lights were going up in the quaint but very narrow side street and it was blocked off for health and safety reasons while work took place.)

Arthur considered not going along, after all Morgana wasn’t in charge of him. But Leon and Mithian and Elyan dutifully got up at one and headed along the corridor to the main meeting room. So Arthur couldn’t claim that he had forgotten. Annoyed, he fetched his sandwich out of the fridge, made himself a coffee from the machine, then trotted along.

“Oh thank you for joining us,” Morgana said, far too heavy on the snark for Arthur’s liking. “I was starting to think you’d got lost!”

Unfortunately their father had chosen that day to make a rare appearance in the office, and of course was sitting in on the meeting.

“Perhaps I should get you a watch for Christmas?” Uther suggested, smiling at Morgana as if they were sharing a private joke. They probably were.

Morgana had always been the apple of his eye and Arthur had long since given up feeling jealous. Or at least that was what he told himself. It did rankle.

Arthur sat down, putting his coffee cup on the table and his shop-bought sandwich next to it. Turkey and pigs in blankets with cranberry stuffing. It was the first one he saw when he’d dashed into the local Simple Food outlet. Looking at it, he wished he hadn’t just grabbed it, swiped his card and left. There were probably other sandwiches in there, ones with greenery. Or a tomato or something.

“That will clog your arteries,” Uther told him, looking at it. “You should make your own like your sister does.”

Morgana beamed happily. She had something that looked fresh and healthy, all green leaves and brightly coloured veggie protein. Very attractive and no doubt also delicious. Morgana would not, Arthur knew, have made it herself. No, it would have been prepared by Gwen, the best cook in the whole world. But there was no point in telling Uther that. He would just tell Arthur to find a suitably talented partner for himself.

Arthur tore off the plastic wrapping on his own rather limp and miserable sandwich, and took a bite. It wasn’t at all tasty but he wasn’t going to let anyone know that. A chunk of turkey immediately dropped out onto the table. Arthur tried to ignore the disapproving look he was getting from his father for that, and put the offending piece of filling back in the packaging. One reason sliced ham or cheese was always going to be a better choice. But then, Arthur hadn’t known there was going to be a surprise meeting. He put the sandwich back in the packet as well, because there was no dignified way to eat those things and there would only be further filling mishaps. Hopefully the meeting wouldn’t be long.

“What’s the meeting about?” he asked Morgana. “There was no brief, I suppose an agenda is too much to hope for?”

“I’m taking a sabbatical for a year,” Morgana told him happily. “Gwen and I thought we’d go on a world tour in the spring. Mordred’s going to be standing in for what he can while I’m gone.”

Not so very different from the impending Christmas market holiday then, Arthur thought. He presumed he was going to have to cover everything that Mordred couldn’t, just like he would at the markets.

“You’ll be paid a bonus of course,” Uther assured Mordred, who was sitting at the far end of the table looking as impassive as ever. Mordred nodded to Uther, but didn’t speak. Weirdo.

“I’m very happy for you,” Arthur told Morgana. There would of course be no bonus for Arthur. Not that he needed it, but still it would have been nice to have the option. “Is that it?” he reached for his coffee cup, hoping he could leave. There was an auction the next morning and he really wanted to check a few points with the main client.

“Obviously Mordred can’t be expected to manage by himself for all that time,” Uther continued. “So Leon will be moving across to head up acquisitions.”

Judging by the look on Leon’s face it wasn’t just Arthur who was surprised by that announcement.

“You don’t mind, do you Arthur?” Uther asked.

Arthur minded very much. Leon wasn’t just his deputy, he was also a good friend. Arthur liked working with him. But he wasn’t going to stand in Leon’s way because obviously a promotion would be great. If that’s what it actually was.

“There’ll be a payrise of course,” Morgana promised. “We just think you’d be so good, Leon. You’re such an asset to the company. So loyal and hardworking.”

“Long overdue a promotion,” Uther added. “Very well deserved.”

The surprised look on Leon’s face had turned into delight. Arthur didn’t want to rain on his parade but someone had to mention the obvious.

“This is a temporary promotion,” Arthur pointed out. “What happens to Leon when Morgana comes back?”

“We’ll worry about that in a year’s time,” Uther replied. He reached across the table to shake Leon’s hand. “Congratulations, Leon. We’ll have to see about getting you membership to the club!”

Arthur sat back and watched as Leon was congratulated by everyone around the table. Elyan was looking particularly pleased and Arthur could guess why. Leon’s move meant that there was a vacancy that Elyan would probably want to go for. Which was fine, but Arthur would still need to recruit someone to handle customer liaison. Unless he made that Elyan’s first task in his possible new role? But then who would cover Elyan’s work in the meantime? There were various possibilities, but at the end of the day it all boiled down to the same thing – more work for Arthur.

“You can start from the end of next week,” Morgana told Leon. “That’s when the Christmas markets begin so I’ll be out for a few weeks.”

“Shouldn’t you be around for a handover?” Arthur pointed out. “That’s a bit unfair on Leon.”

Uther nodded sagely. “That’s very true. He can’t start then, Morgana...”

Just for the briefest of moments, Arthur sat back in his chair and smiled smugly at his sister. And then Uther finished his sentence.

“…he’ll have to start right away.”

“What?” Arthur exclaimed. “What about notice? We’ve got an auction in two days!”

“It’s an internal transfer,” Uther assured him. “Don’t worry, Arthur, we can iron out the minor issues over the next few weeks. It’s not as if Leon is leaving us or anything. Far from it!”

Arthur really, really didn’t want to seem churlish because of course Leon deserved all the good things. But it was such short notice.

“I’ll help as much as I can,” Leon offered. Because of course he did, Leon was amazing and that was why he’d got the promotion. He’d also do a far better job of things than Morgana and wouldn’t go swanning off to work on the markets with his partner every Christmas.

“There. Now we can’t say fairer than that, can we?” Uther beamed. “And if it’s all too much for you and you can’t cope, Arthur, just say the word and I’ll come back. I know Morgana will be a huge loss to the company, but I’m sure we can manage.”

“I can cope,” Arthur told him through gritted teeth. “Is that everything? Meeting finished? Only I am quite busy.”

“Of course,” Uther waved a hand towards the door. “Thank you all for coming in. Leon, Mordred and Morgana, please stay as we’ll need to sort out the new arrangements. Actually, let’s go for lunch. Best place for meetings!”

Arthur got up, picked up his sandwich packet and threw the whole thing in the bin on the way out. It was definitely a day for going out for lunch, by himself. And not coming back.

Except he would have to come back because there was a vacancy to set up and advertise. And he couldn’t even delegate the task to Leon any more.

It was not a good day.

\---

The temp that the agency had sent to fill Elyan’s post was called George.

He was very annoying.

The one single good thing about the whole situation, Arthur decided, was that Elyan had been more than happy to step up into Leon’s role. Elyan was bright and competent and good to work with. So it was only Elyan’s post that needed filling. Customer liaison manager was supposedly an easier position to fill than a deputy expert in fine arts. Except Elyan had been right there and knew the company and had a degree in art history and had just been waiting for an opportunity to move up so that was all good. But then there was George.

George collected antique brass doorknobs. He told Arthur this within the first hour of their meeting. It seemed to be something that George thought made him eminently suitable for working at Pendragon Antiques. Perhaps, eventually, he might be as fortunate as Elyan.

That would not be happening. Doubtless George had an excellent future somewhere… anywhere… as long as it wasn’t with Arthur.

The trouble was, George didn’t see it that way and was constantly finding excuses to walk into Arthur’s office with some important piece of information. It didn’t help that Elyan found it hilarious and, Arthur suspected, encouraged it.

“You can be demoted again,” Arthur warned after George had delivered a particularly useless nugget about doorknobs and Elyan had sat there silently laughing.

“Oh I know,” Elyan replied, picking up the file he’d come in for and heading for the door. “George will be the perfect replacement. Shall I collect my P45 now?”

It was a good point.

And so Arthur suffered, knowing that the advert had only just gone out for Elyan’s old job and that it would be a few weeks until the interview, and then George was bound to apply because he would have experience…

Arthur’s suffering was great indeed.

Worse, the sheds had appeared in the streets. The Christmas markets were almost upon them.

He wondered whether his father might like to come out of semi-retirement while Arthur took a nice holiday. Somewhere. Anywhere but Camelot for the next few weeks. He could guess at the answer.

\---

It would have been difficult for things to get worse, but somehow they did.

Arthur had found a way to manage George – he’d set him up with a special inbox where he could post all his reports and observations. Arthur had promised that he would read them, and that it was a more efficient way of managing their time. And it worked – every time George asked him what he thought about a particular email Arthur would say that he was still giving the matter careful consideration. That appeased George, and gave Arthur some peace.

Elyan was doing well, unsurprisingly. Leon seemed to be very happy in his new role. And Morgana wasn’t in the office because it was the second to last day before the Christmas markets and she was busy with her little shed. Or, as Morgana and all the Christmas market fans liked to call it, chalet.

It was clearly a wooden shed. They all were, rows and rows of them down all the little side streets, including the one outside Arthur’s flat. Getting home was going to be a trial, especially as Morgana and Gwen had their sheds in Arthur’s street and would probably think they had a right to come in and use his kitchen and loo at inconvenient times.

Morgana had already told him that she was going to be storing supplies in his spare bedroom again. Told. Not asked. He wasn’t even sure how she had got hold of a key. Though he didn’t mind Gwen popping in. She always knocked, and the previous year she kept leaving him little treats from her bake stall. Yes, Gwen was quite welcome. It was just her partner Arthur objected to.

Arthur went home early that evening, hoping to enjoy his last night in his flat before all the noise and the crowds. The previous year some idiot had decided that the end of Arthur’s street was the perfect place for ‘entertainment’ and he’d been subjected to an endless cacophony from carol singers and brass bands. What looked horribly like a stage had been going up that morning and he feared the racket would be starting up again.

Technically there were two nights before the markets started, but this year there was going to be a special resident’s preview evening as well. Arthur suspected that was just an excuse to get an extra night’s sales in. After all, anyone could wander around the streets and shop, it wasn’t as if they were going to be asked for ID. So, it was his last night of peace.

Except it wasn’t.

“Arthur!” Morgana called as Arthur unlocked his own front door and walked into his own, private flat. Where he lived. Alone. “Wonderful! You can help us with the boxes!”

Morgana and Gwen were in Arthur’s spare room. Judging by the number of boxes in there, they’d been around for quite a few hours. Arthur couldn’t even see the bed. He gazed sadly at it, resigned to the fact that this was going to be his life for the next few weeks. It would have been nice if Morgana had asked. Just once.

“What if I have a guest?” he attempted.

Morgana waved away the idea. “If it’s a boyfriend then they won’t be sleeping in here anyway! And we’re stopping you having some Christmas market freeloading fair-weather friends coming over and making use of you as a cheap place to crash. You should thank us!”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Yes, freeloaders are something to be avoided,” he told her pointedly but Morgana ignored him.

“Come on,” she called, sweeping past him and heading for the front door. “We’ve still got one more load to bring in from the van. You can help us, Arthur.”

Gwen at least had the decency to look apologetic. “I’m sorry,” she told him as they trailed after Morgana. “I did say she really should ask you first.”

“But it’s what little brothers with convenient and far too big flats are for,” Arthur replied, knowing exactly what his sister would have said. She’d said it when he’d protested in previous years.

“Something like that,” Gwen admitted. “I’ve made you some of that pasta bake you like, you’ll find it in your fridge. And your favourite coffee cake, as a thank you.”

Arthur really, really didn’t mind Gwen storing her wares in the spare room.

“You’re the best sister-not-in-law, you know that right?” he smiled. “Though what you’re doing with that harpy…” he shook his head and sighed theatrically.

Gwen laughed and punched his arm. “That’s my fiancée you’re talking about.”

“You’re not saying I’m wrong though!”

Morgana was already out of the flat and halfway down the communal stairwell. “Hurry up you two!” she yelled. “I want to try out the ice rink in the park when we’re finished!”

Ice skating. Cold and wet. Also quite romantic so Morgana wouldn’t be wanting Arthur to tag along like a spare part. It was a good incentive to help her with the rest of the boxes. Soon enough he would have the relaxing evening he’d been hoping for. And Gwen’s pasta bake as well. Good times.

He hurried after Morgana.

\---

There were a lot of boxes.

It helped a little that when Arthur got to the van he found that Elyan had also been roped into helping out. Elyan didn’t look as pleased with himself as he did in the office.

“You should have got George to help you,” Arthur told him as Elyan headed for Arthur’s flat with a large box in his arms. Elyan just scowled at him and stomped past. Being Gwen’s actual brother he probably wouldn’t get the same level of free baked treats that Arthur did. There was a certain amount of expectation from a sibling. And didn’t Arthur know it.

Arthur went to take the next box from the van, but Morgana stopped him.

“Ah, that stack is for the chalet. Could you take it along? We’re number 23. Just follow Gwen.”

Arthur thought of his dinner and his sofa. The sooner the van was unloaded and Morgana was gone the better. He took two boxes as he wouldn’t be climbing any stairs. It was difficult to see around them but he supposed he could manage.

“Don’t you drop those, Arthur!” Morgana warned as Arthur headed towards the chalet.

So, really, it was Morgana’s fault for even suggesting that might happen. And Arthur didn’t drop them, not exactly. It was just that the stall before Morgana’s was staffed by a complete idiot who was also carrying boxes and also unable to see where he was going. The inevitable collision resulted in the boxes and their contents going everywhere.

“Ow!” cried Arthur’s assailant, a dark haired pale-skinned young man who was sprawling on the ground, surrounded by what looked and smelled like lavender cushions.

“Why didn’t you look where you were going?” Arthur demanded, scrambling up and trying to gather together Morgana’s stupid decorations which were rolling all over the place.

The other man glared at him, then started to furiously put all the cushions back into the badly split box that they’d come from. “I _was_ looking where I was going. _You_ walked right into me!”

“Er, no!” Arthur corrected. “ _You_ walked into _me!_ ”

“I was trying to avoid you! You couldn’t even see where you were going! There were two boxes with legs coming towards me!”

There were four battered and split boxes lying in the street. Arthur looked down at them, then looked at the highly annoying man who was responsible for two of them.

“You were carrying two as well.”

“Smaller boxes!”

In fact Arthur’s boxes were slightly smaller, though the difference was negligible. He was about to point this highly relevant fact out when there was a shriek from behind him.

“Arthur! What have you done?” Morgana came rushing up and started picking through the fallen baubles. “Oh, some of these are scratched! I told you not to carry two boxes!”

The annoying man started smirking at Arthur with a rather smug I-told-you-so look in his eye. “I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he told Morgana, sounding so very sincere. “I tried to avoid him, I really did.”

“Merlin! Oh no not again!”

The man, whose name was apparently Merlin, abruptly looked around worriedly. Another dark haired young man was coming along the street from the opposite direction, also carrying a box. Only one box though, and he could easily see over the top of it. Arthur wished he’d done that.

“Hunith’s going to go mad when she sees this,” the newcomer continued. “I told you not to try to carry two! I… _hel-lo_!”

The newcomer had caught sight of Morgana.

“I’m so sorry about my mate, lady, he’s always been clumsy. Here, let me help you.” And immediately the man put his own box down and started picking up Morgana’s ornaments for her, his own cushions quite forgotten. Morgana, of course, allowed this.

Arthur mouthed back at Merlin; “ _Always_ been clumsy!”

“She told you not to carry two boxes!” Merlin retorted. “And if Will’s helping your girlfriend you can help me put these back!”

The man helping Morgana, whose name was apparently Will, looked around worriedly at Arthur. Will obviously decided that he didn’t like what he saw and glared at Arthur.

“She’s my sister,” Arthur corrected. Will immediately brightened again and went back to picking up the baubles. Will was wasting his time of course, but as it was saving Arthur from having to run around after the things then that was just fine. “That’s her stall right there.”

“Next to ours,” Merlin grumbled. “Thank god I’m not having to man it.”

“Likewise,” Arthur replied. “As if these markets aren’t bad enough.”

“I meant I didn’t want to stand next to you!” Merlin said. “You’ll probably drive all the customers away!”

“It’s my sister’s stall, she’ll be the one manning it! I’m not going anywhere near it!”

“Great! We’re going to be neighbours,” Will told Morgana happily. “So any time you want anything at all, I’ll be right there!”

“Morgana will love that,” Arthur assured him. “Won’t you, Morgana? Say thank you to the nice man!”

Morgana narrowed her eyes at Arthur, but as she’d been taking advantage of her sisterly status and would continue to do so throughout the market period, Arthur felt justified.

“Pick up the cushions, Merlin,” Will instructed. He was busying himself with lifting up Morgana’s first box to carry it over to her stall. “I’m busy.”

Merlin glared at Arthur one last time then crouched down and started to gather up the lavender cushions.

Generally Arthur liked to be quite a kind, helpful sort of person (which was probably why Morgana tended to take advantage of him at every opportunity) but there was just something about Merlin that immediately rubbed him up the wrong way. So instead of helping Merlin, he just stood there and watched.

Arthur did have a bit of type and that type was tall, dark-haired, pale and slender. It occurred to him as he watched Merlin bending over to close up the box that Merlin was exactly that type. But Arthur definitely did not find Merlin attractive because although he ticked all those boxes he was also super-annoying. And rude. And clumsy. And argumentative. And Arthur suddenly realised that he was staring, and worse, that he’d been caught.

“What?” Merlin snapped.

“I was just wondering if you embroidered all those cushions yourself,” Arthur said quickly. It was the first thing that came into his head.

Merlin’s scowl deepened. “Should have known you’d be a homophobe along with everything else! And no, I didn’t. We have an embroidery machine that does all that. Being a gay man _doesn’t_ mean you sit around sewing all day! Not that there would be anything wrong if I did!”

With that, Merlin picked up the box of cushions and stomped off towards Will’s shed. Arthur wanted to call after him and apologise, to explain that far from being a homophobe, Arthur was in fact gay as well and knew far better than to stereotype. But Merlin was angry, and would probably have more to say on the subject. Arthur didn’t want another earful.

He picked up Morgana’s other box, and dropped it off at her shed before going to collect another one from the van.

When he returned, Merlin was nowhere to be seen.

\---

“Grumpy sod!” Merlin complained as they drove back to the farm. He knew he’d moaned about Arthur all evening, and gone to great measures to avoid the silly sod (no mean feat when their chalets were right next to each other!) but the idiot was playing on his mind. Merlin could see Will rolling his eyes, but chose to ignore it. Will could roll his eyes as much as he liked – he wasn’t the one who’d been insulted by the posh blond gay-hating prat.

“Hot sister though,” Will pointed out. “I reckon I’m in there!”

Will lived in a land of eternal optimism and self-delusion. It was Merlin’s turn to roll his eyes. At least he wasn’t driving while he did so.

“I’m sure she’ll be flattered that you think so,” Merlin told him. “Just don’t end up getting done for sexual harassment or something. She might just be friendly.”

“Friendly!” Will exclaimed. “Oh please, please let her be friendly!”

Merlin wondered sometimes what he’d done to deserve a friend like Will. “You’re going to end up getting slapped again,” he warned.

Will wasn’t listening. “Three weeks with her! Three glorious weeks! I’ll be moved in by Christmas!”

“She might already have a partner,” Merlin warned.

Will scoffed at that. “Partner? Why was her brother helping her then? That’s a single lady if I ever saw one. She’s mine!”

“Her brother hates your best friend!”

“Hmmm…I’ll just have to get a different friend!”

“Fine with me!”

Will laughed. He was at least appearing to concentrate on the road. Lucky, because they were heading up a dark country lane in the middle of nowhere. He’d already barely missed a fox. It wasn’t the best of roads, but it was the quickest route between their farm and Camelot city. If it snowed during the winter then the lane was often impassable.

As long as it held out for the markets, it would be fine. Merlin’s mother owned a lavender farm… well, it was a couple of fields but they called it a farm. She had a little gift shop where they sold all sorts of lavender products. And there was the Christmas market which generally brought in a lot of custom. It wasn’t a huge income, but it was enough to keep the place going. Will did most of the physical work whilst Merlin’s mother made most of the crafts. And Merlin, who was currently between jobs, was helping out as well.

Between jobs was a polite way of saying that he couldn’t find a job because he’d gone for an obscure degree that made him both over and under qualified at the same time, and so he just took whatever work he could. Will had been working at the farm for years so Merlin could hardly walk in and take his job (and really, he didn’t want to – Will loved working in the fields but Merlin generally hated it). Still, it was a busy time of year and Merlin was happy to help out. He even quite liked it, as long as it was in the farm shop or café.

“You coming in with me tomorrow?” Will asked. “Posh bird might have her grumpy brother in tow again!”

That was what Merlin was afraid of. “Mum likes helping with the stall. I’ll stay home and get stock ready for you two to take in.”

Will nodded happily. “Fine with me. I don’t want you upsetting my future wife by insulting her brother again.”

Merlin didn’t even bother to reply. Somehow he didn’t think he’d be the one upsetting Morgana…

\---

Arthur had heated up the pasta bake that Gwen had left for him, poured himself a beer and started to relax in front of the TV when his phone rang.

A glance at the screen told him that it was Morgana, so he ignored it. He’d carried boxes, helped set up displays, screwed in lights and fixed winter garlands all over the shed. Yes, he’d been a very helpful and dutiful brother that evening and did not wish to have his good nature taken advantage of any further.

His landline rang.

That was strange, because his landline _never_ rang. It was probably someone selling double glazing or wanting to tell him about all the money he would receive due to the accident they thought he’d had. Or it was Morgana again. So he ignored that too.

The pasta bake was delicious, as always. Gwen really was an amazing cook. There was a documentary on about dinosaurs with some fairly realistic animation, so he sat and watched that.

His mobile went again. This time when he looked at the screen he saw it was Gwen. Unlike Morgana, Gwen wouldn’t disturb him without good reason. Plus he liked her far more than he liked Morgana. Gwen could cook.

“Hi Gwen, what’s up?” he asked. “And thanks for the food, just eating it now. Wonderful as always.” Arthur hoped that would be enough to make her ring off quickly.

“Oh, Arthur, thank goodness,” Gwen sounded breathless. “We’ve been trying to get hold of you. Morgana’s in hospital.”

Suddenly all his irritation with his sister was gone, replaced with worry and concern. “Why? What’s happened? Is she okay?”

“She fell over while we were at the ice rink. We’re waiting for X-ray results, she’s done something to her leg. There was a crack when she went over and she’s in a lot of pain. She says…”

Whatever Morgana was going to say was lost in the sounds of a brief struggle on the other end of the line. Arthur could hear Gwen and his sister arguing.

“Arthur!” Morgana’s voice came down the line. She’d obviously taken Gwen’s phone. “I see how it is! You answer Gwen’s phone and not mine!”

Clearly Morgana wasn’t too badly injured. Arthur was relieved, but did his best not to let Morgana know that.

“Do you blame me? Gwen’s a kind, sweet girl, while you’re… well, you’re you! What do you want? I’m not donating a leg if that’s what you’re after!”

“Like I’d want one of your hairy legs! No, Arthur, I need you to man the stall for the next few days.”

“The stall?” For a moment Arthur wondered what she meant, because the reality was just too horrible to believe. “Wait, you mean _the shed_?”

“They’re called chalets, Arthur,” Morgana corrected. “Yes. I can’t walk, I don’t know how long I’ll be off my feet. I’ve been working on those ornaments all year, I have to sell them.”

Arthur stared down at his cooling dinner miserably. This was too much, it really was. “Can’t you just hire someone? I’m covering for you at work already!”

Morgana didn’t answer immediately. Arthur could hear talking in the background. One of the voices sounded suspiciously familiar. But of course the hospital would have called their father as next of kin. Arthur’s heart sank. And it was Uther’s voice that came on the line next.

“Arthur, don’t worry about work. Very commendable of you but I’m going to come out of retirement for a few weeks. And Morgana can sit at a desk, she just won’t be able to walk around very easily. We’ll do everything in the office, don’t you worry. But your sister has worked so hard on this admirable business venture of hers. We can’t just hire some random person off the streets. It needs to be family. The Pendragons have always been a family business.”

“You could do it?” Arthur suggested, but Uther didn’t seem to have listened to him.

“Excellent, I knew you’d agree.”

“I didn’t!” Arthur exclaimed, but Uther just carried on talking over the top of him.

“Gwen is going to show you where everything is in the morning. She’ll be round at nine to discuss pricing. Ah, I’m so proud of Morgana. Such a great business head on her shoulders. And you too of course Arthur. That’s why this couldn’t be entrusted to anyone else. Wonderful.”

And before Arthur could say another word, Uther ended the call.

Arthur just gazed at the phone in amazement. He hadn’t agreed to anything yet somehow his family had managed to railroad him into the worst job imaginable.

He put his dinner to one side. Somehow he had lost his appetite.

\---

The next day was everything Arthur expected it to be, and more.

The weather, of course, was wet. Not just wet but that fine grey rain that didn’t feel like it was properly raining but got you wet nonetheless. It suited Arthur’s bleak mood. He’d tried calling his father but it had just gone to voicemail.

Uther always let calls go to voicemail when he didn’t want to take them. It wasn’t the first time Arthur had been on the receiving end of that particular treatment, usually when there was something at work that Uther just didn’t want to deal with. Or when he’d put his foot down over something and knew Arthur wasn’t happy with the decision, which was what would be the case on this occasion.

Arthur wasn’t the only one unhappy about the new setup.

“Where’s the fit bird?” Will demanded when he saw Arthur opening up the shed. “The one with the tits and the legs!”

“Do you mean my sister?” Arthur asked pointedly. “Or another woman? You’ll need to be more specific. Many women have, as you so crudely put it, tits _and_ legs.”

There was a woman with Will, possibly his mother as she smacked him on the arm and reprimanded him for his ungentlemanly behaviour. Arthur liked her immediately. Her name was Hunith, and when they’d finished introductions Arthur had found that she owned the lavender farm that all the merchandise had come from and was responsible for the production of much of it. Will, apparently, carried out much of the manual labour on the farm. That figured, Arthur thought. Hunith was definitely far preferable to that annoying Merlin character who had been working on the stall the previous evening, no matter how attractive he might have been. Arthur had seen him sneaking around trying to avoid Arthur for the rest of the night. Which was just ridiculous because Arthur was a pussycat and would have tried to make amends if Merlin hadn’t been so foolish about keeping his distance. Not that it was Arthur who needed to make amends. Much. It had just been a misunderstanding. Anyway, Merlin was gone and Arthur doubted they would ever meet again. Hunith and Will mentioned that Merlin managed the accounts and was back at the farm packaging up more merchandise. It meant he wouldn’t be working on the stall, Arthur supposed.

Obviously that was a very good thing because Arthur didn’t need any more accidents or arguments, and it wasn’t disappointing at all. He could concentrate on the awful job in hand instead.

On the bright side, at least Arthur was just outside his flat, and he wouldn’t have to cover for Morgana at work. In fact, she might have to cover for him a bit. Those were pluses. And how hard could standing in a shed selling tat to tourists really be?

Quite hard, he soon discovered.

The sales themselves weren’t too bad. There was a price list, most of the initial stock had already got price stickers on, and everything was laid out ready. Gwen went through it all with him, showing him how to operate the card reader and what to do when people tried to start haggling.

Arthur could deal with haggling, he worked on sales and auctions of antiques after all. What he couldn’t deal with very well was his new assistant.

Gwaine was an old friend of Morgana’s from her university days. Arthur wasn’t sure whether he was an old flame, or a fellow student, or whether they’d just met in the bar or what. It was hard to tell. Possibly a mix of all three. At any rate Morgana had arranged to have him help her on the stall. Arthur couldn’t quite see at first why Gwaine couldn’t just take charge of the stall in Morgana’s absence. And then he spent an hour or so with Gwaine and realised.

Gwaine’s first action on arrival was to go over to the nearby chalet serving mulled wine and bring them both back cups of it. That was fine, but then he was gone again thirty minutes later for more. He didn’t come back for a very long time.

Arthur didn’t really have the opportunity to think about it because the shoppers had started to arrive. In theory day one was supposed to not start until mid-afternoon and was only supposed to be for residents. In practice people were arriving before many of the stalls had even finished setting up and by midday the markets were mostly open.

“These can’t all be residents!” Arthur exclaimed, looking at the crowds. “I thought this was supposed to be the quiet day!”

Will on the lavender stall next door just smirked at him. Hunith was far kinder and more understanding.

“It’s always like this,” she told Arthur. “Honestly, this is quiet. Just wait until the weekend!”

Arthur really didn’t like the sound of that. It must have shown on his face because Hunith patted his arm sympathetically and handed him a piece of lavender shortbread. Yes, she was definitely his favourite.

In the shed on the other side, Gwen (his other favourite) was doing great business. She was selling baked goods and those were always popular. Besides, Arthur had tasted Gwen’s cooking many times and didn’t blame the whole of Camelot for descending on her stall! He was rather glad he had Hunith’s friendly face next to him, because he doubted he was going to get much of a chance to speak to Gwen all day. And he had many questions. Hunith was as kind and pleasant as Gwen, and her stall wasn’t as ridiculously popular, so he was able to ask for help whenever he was floundering.

Gwaine seemed to have vanished.

“Have you even got a co-worker?” Will grumbled when Arthur begged Hunith to watch the stall while he went for a comfort break. “Didn’t you pay him or something?”

“I don’t know where he’s gone,” Arthur admitted. “He went for mulled wine ages ago. Please, Hunith, my flat’s just over there, I won’t be more than a couple of minutes.”

“Don’t worry about it Arthur,” Hunith smiled. “Maybe boil the kettle while you’re there, bring us all a nice hot cup of tea?”

Arthur was more than happy to do that for his new friends. Well, his new friend anyway. And Will too. It was pretty cold standing outside for all that time.

A few minutes later he was back with five steaming mugs of tea, two of which he exchanged for a handful of Gwen’s Christmas cookies. Even Will seemed happy with those.

Gwaine still wasn’t back.

“I should sack him,” Will advised next time there was a lull in sales. “I’d sack him if it was me. He’s taking the piss. You _are_ paying him, right?”

Arthur didn’t actually know. “It’s my sister’s shed. She arranged having Gwaine to help. I assume she sorted out a salary with him.”

There was no way that Gwaine would have been helping out for free. Arthur felt annoyed on his sister’s behalf. Not that Morgana didn’t deserve it, given that she and their father had made Arthur stand out there in the cold. But she was still his sister and he didn’t like to see her being taken advantage of.

“Perhaps you should call her?” Hunith suggested. “Find out exactly what she has arranged. It’s not fair on you, standing out here by yourself. And this is only the first day. You won’t be able to manage alone over the weekend.”

“It’ll be manic,” Will agreed. “The tourists turn up in force. But you live here in your posh flat, so you know that, right?”

“I usually go and stay with my father during the markets,” Arthur admitted. “My sister and her girlfriend take over my flat. I can’t move for boxes.”

“Girlfriend?” Will spluttered. “Oh my god! It gets better!”

Arthur tried to ignore him. Hunith would probably be upset if Arthur punched her helper.

“You poor thing,” Hunith smiled at him sympathetically. “It sounds as if this sister of yours is very fortunate to have such a kind-hearted brother. You obviously do a lot for her.”

Arthur was going to make sure that Morgana met Hunith at the earliest opportunity, preferably when their father was there as well. Hunith made some excellent points that they definitely both needed to hear.

“Arthur!”

Gwaine had returned, finally.

“Where have you been?” Arthur demanded. “You’ve been gone hours!”

Gwaine looked around. Unfortunately at that particular time there were no customers in the vicinity, except a couple at Gwen’s stall.

“You’re not busy. You’ve coped.”

“It’s been hectic! And where were you?” Arthur asked again.

Gwaine shrugged, then nodded towards something further down the lane. “Percival, the guy at the wine stall, needed some help. It’s manic down there. People love mulled wine. The guy he hired let him down.”

“I know the feeling,” Arthur retorted, but he had the feeling that Gwaine wasn’t listening.

“Yeah, so I said I’d give him a hand. You don’t mind, do you? He’s really busy. Morgana can sort someone else out for here if you give her a call. I think she used Elena last year.”

Elena was Morgana’s most clumsy, accident-prone friend. Arthur could recall Morgana complaining the previous year that Elena kept knocking half the displays over all the time. He liked her well enough but really didn’t want to have her as his helper.

“Perhaps Elena could help this Percival person?” Arthur suggested. He suspected that Gwaine had ulterior motives for wanting to be of assistance, and doubted that Elena featured in them.

“It’s a popular stall, Arthur,” Gwaine told him. “Elena would be overwhelmed. Honestly, it needs an experienced barman. You know I worked in pubs all through uni.”

Gwaine had drunk in a lot of pubs through uni, Arthur didn’t recall much working. But it was a lost cause and he knew it.

“What does this Percival look like?” Arthur asked. Gwaine’s eyes actually glazed over slightly.

“He’s built. He’s _really_ built. Honestly Arthur, I think he must live in the gym. Come on, we’re friends right? You’re not going to deny me the chance of happiness here?”

Arthur would have quite liked to deny him the chance of even breathing. But there was no point in arguing. Even if he insisted that Gwaine stay, Gwaine would just find reasons to go and visit this Percival character at every opportunity. Arthur knew he might as well give up there and then.

“Fine,” he said. “But when Morgana’s precious business goes into administration because I couldn’t sell enough of these stupid baubles by myself, I’ll make sure she knows who to blame.”

Unfortunately for Arthur, both of them knew _exactly_ who Morgana was going to be blaming if anything went wrong with her precious stall and it wouldn’t be Gwaine.

“I can call Elena,” Gwaine offered, taking out his phone in what he apparently felt would be a helpful gesture.

“No, I’ll deal with it,” Arthur assured him. “Just go, Gwaine.”

“Well, if you’re sure…”

Arthur was sure that he’d probably say something that would end their friendship permanently if Gwaine didn’t get out of his sight soon.

“Go,” Arthur repeated. Gwaine duly went. The little shit didn’t even look back.

Hunith had been helping a customer while Gwaine returned, and must have missed their exchange because she looked surprised to see that Gwaine had gone off again.

“Your friend isn’t staying?” she asked, watching Gwaine’s retreating figure. “Surely you’re due a break by now, Arthur? Has he just gone to get you some food?”

“He’s not coming back,” Arthur sighed. “I need to find a replacement.” He smiled a little sadly at Hunith. “I don’t suppose you have a twin sister or something who’d like to come and work with me?”

Another customer appeared at that point, asking about the homemade lavender soaps that Hunith and Will were selling. It wasn’t as if Arthur had actually expected an answer, and anyway he had to turn away and deal with a potential customer of his own. Though Hunith made a sale, while Arthur did not. He was fairly certain that his takings were way lower than either of the neighbouring sheds. It just wasn’t possible during a rush to deal with all the customers and their queries by himself and even at quiet times with single customers he wasn’t doing very well.

“Arthur,” Hunith called when they were both free again. “No twin sister, but my son is looking for work at the moment. Would you like me to call him? He’s very hardworking and great with customers. If I call him now he can probably get down here before the evening rush begins. You really do need a second person here before it gets dark.”

Arthur could have hugged her. Hunith was brilliant and any offspring of hers were bound to be just perfect.

“Would you?” he beamed. “Hunith, you’re a life-saver. I’ll call my sister and find out what she was paying Gwaine.”

“Isn’t she paying you the same?” Will frowned.

“I’m her brother, I don’t get paid.”

He was fairly sure he heard Will mutter ‘mug’ under his breath.

\---

Hunith’s son could indeed start right away.

Arthur didn’t blame him for taking the job – Morgana’s salary offer for three weeks work was quite generous. She had no business sense at all, Arthur thought. Still, it was good that he was going to get some help. When Hunith came off the phone with her son she had been beaming happily.

“Ah Arthur, this is such good timing. Merlin’s just finished packing up all the rest of our stock and he can be with you in less than an hour.”

Arthur’s heart sank.

“Merlin?” he repeated faintly.

There couldn’t possibly be two people with that ridiculous name who both knew the lavender farm stall holders. And of course Merlin had said something about his mother being the one to make those lavender cushions that Arthur had knocked everywhere.

“Yes, that’s my boy’s name. Now don’t you go teasing him about it, Arthur. I’ve told him how nice you are so don’t let me down. It’s an old family name and he’s my little bird.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Arthur promised, though he did store up the little bird comment for ammunition if needed. “So… that would be the man who was here when you were setting up?”

“Oh yes! Did you meet already?”

Arthur could see Will standing behind Hunith and laughing. The git had been smirking throughout Hunith’s call to Merlin. Now Arthur knew why.

“We met briefly,” Arthur allowed. “He may not remember. Er… did you tell him it was the stall next to yours?”

Hunith’s smile faltered a little. “No, I just said a stallholder… I think. Why? Is there a problem?”

“Just a bit!” Will laughed. “Remember the posh twit Merlin was complaining about all last night? The one who knocked him flying?”

“Yes, but that can’t have been _Arthur_ …” Hunith looked between the two of them, confused. Then it must have shown in Arthur’s face that yes, he was indeed the person her precious son would have been talking about, because she just looked sad. “Oh. Oh dear. Merlin was so pleased to get a job. And he’s on his way now. Oh dear.”

Arthur felt far worse about worrying Hunith than he did about getting stuck with Merlin for the rest of the day. After all, Merlin would probably either stomp straight off again (which would make him look bad rather than Arthur) or would do the shift that day and refuse to come back for any additional days (which would at least give Arthur time to find someone else and also probably wouldn’t upset Hunith too much as she would have had several hours of them arguing by then). So, even though he had grave misgivings about the situation, Arthur forced a smile onto his face.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure we can make the best of it. We probably just got off on the wrong foot.”

Will snorted, but luckily a couple of ladies appeared at the lavender stall at that moment and he went to help them instead. Will, for all his obnoxious comments towards Morgana (not to her face, Arthur supposed) was quite good at charming all the women of all ages who came anywhere near his stall. A natural flirt, much like Gwaine. Arthur, on the other hand, wasn’t so good at that. It was one of the many reasons that Gwaine had an endless string of partners and Arthur spent most of his time single.

Hunith still looked a little worried, and Arthur wondered exactly what Merlin had been saying about him. After all, the collision had been just as much Merlin’s fault as Arthur’s. Mostly.

It would be fine. Probably.

Arthur started making a list in his head of possible replacements though. Because there was no way that Merlin would hang around for more than one evening.

\---

Merlin was having a great day.

He’d packed up all the rest of the products for the stall and carefully labelled the boxes. Will had texted to say that it was already going really well down in the market. They’d be able to make some improvements to the farm if business continued to do well. Quite a few people had come into the farm shop and café, so although his Uncle Gaius and Aunt Alice ran that side of the business Merlin had helped out at lunchtime. He enjoyed all that, though he wasn’t sure about the pair of them dressing up as Father and Mother Christmas for the holiday season. But he’d had Alice’s turkey special for lunch in return for serving a couple of tables, and several mugs of the gingerbread coffee/eggnog thing she made – all of this was delicious. Alice seemed to think he needed fattening up, and tended to dote on him. All very good as far as Merlin was concerned.

But best of all, his mum had called to say one of the other stalls needed help for the whole Christmas market period. And the pay was pretty good!

Merlin liked helping out at the farm (manual labour excluded), but it was a family business so it didn’t actually pay as such. And it was Christmas, and he wanted some money to buy gifts for his loved ones. He’d hoped to have found a proper, permanent job but that just wasn’t happening. So three weeks on a market stall was just perfect.

Hopefully it wouldn’t be anywhere near that annoying posh git either. Will had mentioned several times that Arthur was there and having to man his sister’s stall. He’d sent quite a few pictures of Arthur looking grumpy as well. Will of course was a bit pissed off that the very lovely Morgana wasn’t there but Merlin was quite happy to look at the pretty pictures of Arthur. After all, he couldn’t hear Arthur being rude and annoying if he just looked at the pictures. And Arthur was very easy on the eyes. Perhaps Merlin would be on a stall not too far off and be able to look at the pretty man? That would be good as well.

The way Merlin’s day was going, he would probably get to watch Arthur fall flat on his face in a puddle!

Merlin hummed to himself as he drove along, thinking about the pictures Will had shared earlier. Arthur had looked pretty cold and miserable in all of them. He wasn’t dressed for the weather which was just another thing to criticise him for (Merlin had examined Arthur’s clothing, because wearing posh clothes was one of the things that he objected to about Arthur and not because he was admiring the way Arthur filled out that stylish leather jacket he was wearing _at all_ ). No wonder his helper never seemed to be around. Will had mentioned that the other bloke (“You’d like him too, Merlin, ugly and not at all like a male model, just your sort!”) kept wandering off and leaving Arthur to get on with it.

Merlin started to chuckle to himself at the thought. And then something occurred to him and he stopped smiling…

No.

His mother wouldn’t do that. He’d told her the previous evening how awful Arthur was and… no. No. No!

It probably was just a coincidence. Arthur would never have agreed to have Merlin help him. No, Merlin decided, he was quite safe. Probably. He wondered whether he should stop and call Will, just to make absolutely sure? But money was money. And it wouldn’t be Arthur who needed help. After all, his mum had said it was a _nice_ young man. And that definitely wasn’t any recognisable description of Arthur. So it couldn’t be him.

Merlin kept telling himself that as he drove along.

Of course, he was wrong…

\---

By the time Merlin arrived, Arthur was getting fairly desperate for help.

He knew that coachloads of tourists descended on Camelot for the markets every year, he had to fight his way through them whenever he walked through the city after all. But he hadn’t really registered that customers had a particular time of day when they liked to all hit the markets at once. And that time was late afternoon, as soon as the lights came on and the sun went down. Even on the supposedly quieter Residents’ Day. His wasn’t the most popular of the stalls but still it was busy. And if one more person waved their Camelot Residents Card in his face and asked for a discount he was going to scream.

Morgana, of course, hadn’t let Arthur know about the discount. Most of the stalls seemed to do it, and there was a website somewhere that listed them all. Gwen was giving a free biscuit with every hot chocolate. Hunith and Will were just giving 10% off. Morgana, he eventually discovered, had arranged a 7% discount.

That was absolute hell to calculate when you were busy. Arthur tried it a couple of times then gave up and told people it was 10%. There was a reason nearly all the stalls were sticking to that figure. There wasn’t any time to call Morgana and get her to ask the organisers to change it on the website though, because there were just more and more customers.

And then, suddenly, there was Merlin.

“Oh god, it _is_ you!” Merlin groaned.

“Not god, but an easy mistake,” Arthur replied because he just couldn’t help himself. There was something about Merlin that just made Arthur want to rub him up the wrong way.

“Still a prat!”

Arthur was about to retaliate. Then he saw Hunith standing behind Merlin, looking worried, and he realised he needed to be a little bit nicer.

“Thank you for coming to help, Merlin. There’s a price list tacked to the wall, I’ve changed the resident’s discount to 10%. Everything in here is handmade, and if anyone asks about online sales there are a pile of cards with Morgana’s website that I’ve been told to hand out.”

“You’re assuming I’m going to help now I know it’s you!” Merlin grumbled, then yelped as Hunith poked him in the arm. “Ow! Mum!”

“Poor Arthur hasn’t had a break all day,” Hunith told her son. “I’ve promised you’ll help him. Don’t let me down!”

Merlin pouted sulkily, but moved to stand next to Arthur in front of the shed. Hunith watched for a moment, then nodded to herself and moved back to her own stall.

“Where’s your sister?” Merlin asked. “I thought you said yesterday that she was running the stall.”

“Ice skating accident. She’s on crutches.”

“Kind of you to step in and help her.”

Arthur shrugged, not wanting to admit that his father and his sister had both railroaded him into it. It looked as if Merlin might have a similar problem with his own parent, although Hunith was much nicer than Uther. Fortunately he was saved from any further discussion by the arrival of customers. Merlin handled them surprisingly well and managed to sell two of the delicate and overpriced baubles that Morgana had made. The two ladies he had served went away happy and smiling, and had even taken one of Morgana’s cards.

“Have a great Christmas!” Merlin called after them. They waved back to him, and immediately more customers descended on the stall. Merlin immediately started talking to them about the merchandise, even though he’d only just arrived and probably didn’t have a clue. A minute or so later and there was another sale. And another. And another…

Okay, so there were more people around than there had been earlier. But most were actually making purchases instead of just browsing. And those who might have been just browsing before were starting to be persuaded to actually buy.

Merlin was, although Arthur hated to admit it, exactly what Arthur needed in order to survive the next 3 weeks.

He was going to have to try to be nice. Luckily they were so busy for the rest of the evening that there really wasn’t anything much to do except deal with the customers and replacing purchased stock.

“What’s this made of?” one young woman demanded, holding up a delicate green metallic-looking bauble and waving it in Arthur’s face. “Is it plastic?”

Arthur wasn’t entirely sure what the things were made of. Some were clearly painted glass, but the others could be anything. Morgana had a website but he hadn’t bothered to look at it. They were just Christmas decorations, for goodness sake.

“It’s handmade,” he offered. “Not plastic.”

Arthur knew they weren’t plastic because he’d managed to break several already.

“They’re glass,” Merlin put in, smiling at the lady. “All of them are made of glass and individually hand-painted. That particular one has been hand-blown then dipped in metallic paint and the designs added later. A beautiful piece of craftsmanship, don’t you think?”

Merlin really was very good at coming up with plausible waffle to tell the customers, Arthur thought admiringly. His own answers to those types of questions had simply been that the ornaments were glass.

“So does that mean each one is unique? I’m not buying something mass produced?” the woman asked.

“Every single one is unique,” Merlin assured her. “Look, each of them has a tiny little number painted on it, marking it so that we can trace it back to the day it was created. This one is 382, but this” – he lifted up another bauble which looked pretty much the same as the first to Arthur – “is 387. Both made on the same day, Morgana must have been creating a batch of metallic green that day. But see how the designs are slightly different from each other? Those two are probably as close as you will ever get to a pair. If you look at some of these ones with multi-coloured glass blown in you’ll see those are quite distinct in their variations.”

It was very good spiel. Even Arthur felt convinced by it. And the woman eventually purchased three and went away happy.

“You’ve got quite an imagination,” Arthur told Merlin as soon as the woman had gone. “How did you come up with all that patter?”

Merlin was putting out a couple of fresh baubles to replace those he had just sold. He frowned at Arthur, looking quite puzzled.

“What do you mean?”

“All that about the bauble being unique and hand blown. Even I was convinced.”

“Well it’s all on your sister’s website,” Merlin told him. “I looked it up on my phone as soon as I got a chance. Your sister’s put masses of information on there about how she makes these things. Haven’t you looked?”

Arthur hadn’t bothered looking at it. He’d assumed it was just going to be full of pictures and the online shop.

“I haven’t had time,” he attempted. “I’ve been manning the stall single-handedly all day.”

Merlin looked as if he was going to say something further, but again Arthur was saved by the timely arrival of a customer. While Merlin was dealing with them, Arthur quickly checked the website to see if there was anything else useful on there. It had plenty of pictures of Morgana posing with the merchandise, but also had information about the company.

According to the website, Morgana was an enterprising young woman striking out on her own and building a business from scratch. It had a lengthy section on how few women worked in glassblowing, and all the different techniques that needed to be mastered in order to perfect a piece. It said absolutely nothing about their father bankrolling her attempt to start up on her own, nor did it mention her very well-paying day job. It did at least mention Gwen, who had been helping out, but that mostly seemed to be an excuse to post selfies of the pair of them posing with various pieces of glass. Morgana produced more than the Christmas baubles, but those sold so well at the market that they made up the majority of the stock on sale. Few people had shown any real interest in any of the vases and other items so far.

“Impressive,” Merlin commented, seeing that Arthur was looking at the website. “She’s done well with this, starting up by herself.”

Merlin had of course made another sale in the meantime. Arthur was starting to wonder if he was losing his touch. Normally, back in the antiques business, he was very good at making sales.

“She had some help,” Arthur assured him. “A well-paid full-time job.”

Merlin looked a little wistful at that. “Must be nice,” was all he said before he turned to help yet another customer.

After that the customers started coming thick and fast. Arthur didn’t really talk to Merlin properly until the markets all shut down for the night a few hours later. And even then it was full of interruptions. They’d been polite, friendly even during their hours on the stall. Arthur hoped that would continue and that Merlin wasn’t going to quit at the end of the night.

“God, I’m knackered!” Will complained as they started to lock up the sheds. “I want my bed.”

“I’m going to have a long soak in a hot bath,” Hunith agreed.

“Sounds like heaven,” Arthur sighed. “Merlin, I need to sort out your employment first. I’m assuming you’ve brought national insurance, bank details and everything?”

“You’re assuming I’m coming back!” Merlin replied, but he was smiling when he said it. That didn’t stop Arthur’s heart lurching in his chest at the mere suggestion of managing the stall from hell without Merlin’s help the next day.

“Funny. Let’s go over to my flat, we can sort it out there over a coffee.”

Somehow, going over to Arthur’s flat appeared to have been a blanket invitation to Hunith and Will, because they came along as well. Not that Arthur minded Hunith coming along, but Will was a different matter. And of course Gwen came too because half her stock was in Arthur’s spare room.

“I’ll order pizza,” she called as she headed for the spare bedroom. “We’ve all earned it today!”

“Your girlfriend?” Merlin asked, following Arthur through to the kitchen. “She’s nice.”

“She’s great,” Arthur agreed. “She’s my sister’s girlfriend.” He tried not to smile at the howl of dismay that provoked from Will. “Morgana would eat you alive, Will. Just think of it as a lucky escape. Now who wants coffee?”

“I’ll sort that out,” Hunith offered. “Just show me where everything is, then you can set Merlin up so that he gets paid.”

Merlin had definitely earned his pay, Arthur thought as they sat down in front of Arthur’s laptop and began setting Merlin up as an employee.

“That’s Pendragon Antiques!” Merlin exclaimed as Arthur opened up the new starter form and began to complete it online. “Do you work for them?”

Arthur was about to say that his father owned the company. But then he remembered that Merlin was taking the market job because he was unemployed and desperate for work. It seemed mean to highlight the difference, and Arthur was supposed to be being nice to Merlin in order to ensure the man came back the following day.

“Yes, so does my sister. That’s why you’re being paid via the company.”

“Oh.” Merlin was silent for a few moments, and Arthur was aware he was looking around the flat. Merlin was probably considering how expensive it must have been. “So you have a fairly high up job there?”

“Fairly,” Arthur agreed. He typed in Merlin’s national insurance number.

“High enough that maybe at the end of this you can give me a reference?”

Arthur smiled, because that was a perfectly fair request and one that on the evidence of their first day he wasn’t going to have any qualms about fulfilling. “Do a good job and I’ll be happy to.”

When he looked up, Merlin was grinning at him delightedly. It was ridiculously attractive and Arthur had to quickly turn his attention back to the computer. Morgana had helpfully set up a temporary post already that Gwaine was supposed to be filling, so it was a simple matter to slot Merlin in there instead.

“I’m going to be the best sales assistant you ever had!” Merlin assured him. “Today was only Residents’ Day. Tomorrow the proper market starts! We’re going to make record profits!”

“Yeah, if you don’t break all the merchandise between you,” Will grumbled. “He’s clumsy,” he added when Arthur looked puzzled. “Falls over his own feet sometimes.”

“I do not!” Merlin retorted.

“Boys!” Hunith started handing out cups of coffee. “No arguing. It’s been a long day. Arthur, I’ve left some of our lavender bath oil on the side for you. I know it’s not the manliest thing, but it’s relaxing when you’re tired and you’ll be right next to our stall tomorrow so nobody’s going to notice if you smell of it.”

Arthur had no intention of using it but thanked Hunith anyway. He finished setting Merlin up with the company, and by then Gwen’s pizza order had arrived and they all sat around the table tucking in.

It was one of the most companionable evenings Arthur had experienced in a long time. Despite his tiredness he was almost sorry when they all went home. Merlin, Gwen and Hunith were all good company, and Will… well, Arthur could just about put up with him.

Merlin was the last to trail down the stairs and back out into the cold street. He stopped at the door, zipping up his coat and wrapping his scarf round his neck.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said to Arthur.

“Even though I’m a posh prat?” Arthur couldn’t help teasing. He was fairly confident that they’d moved on from that and would be okay now.

“Yeah, even though you are!” Merlin grinned back. “Get some sleep, it’s going to be mad tomorrow! Bye now!”

And then he was out of the door and gone.

Somehow though, Arthur couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the evening.

\---

Arthur had thought that Residents’ Day was busy but he soon realised that it had been positively silent in comparison to the first full day of the markets.

The trains and coaches brought in herds of people throughout the day. None of them left, all swarming around the centre waiting for night to fall so that they could enjoy the markets in all their glory. So it got busier. And busier.

And then the sun went down and things just got manic.

The previous day there had been time to chat, however briefly. That now seemed like a distantly remembered luxury. Arthur was glad of the proximity of his flat because the toilet block for the markets was several streets away and had a massive queue. Gwen had a key anyway, but Arthur soon took pity on Hunith and Merlin (also, very reluctantly, Will) and allowed them to use it too. The rule was that they all brought back mugs of tea (though Will was rubbish at making a decent cuppa so they all agreed to let him off his turns) and really that kept them all going throughout the day.

And when the ordeal was finally over for the day, everyone piled into Arthur’s flat and ordered a delivery from a Chinese restaurant.

“I would normally offer to cook,” Hunith sighed. “But honestly, if I have to stand for another moment I’ll collapse! Having you as our market neighbour has been a godsend, Arthur, it really has!”

It gave Arthur a warm feeling inside to hear the praise. His own mother had passed away when he was just a baby, but had she lived he felt sure she would be someone kind and supportive like Hunith. Merlin probably had no idea how lucky he was. Merlin, who had settled himself down on Arthur’s couch as if he belonged there. Arthur wished they had a little time to themselves so that he could get to know Merlin a bit better. He still hadn’t let Merlin know his own preferences and that Merlin was completely incorrect in his assumption that Arthur was in any way homophobic. But he couldn’t exactly kick Will out, and didn’t really _want_ to kick Hunith or Gwen out.

“You’re welcome,” was all he said.

\---

On Friday afternoon, Uther Pendragon visited the stall.

Arthur had just made a good sale. He had learned all the sales patter that Merlin could think of and they were now starting to have a friendly competition to see who could sell the most. Merlin was winning, but Arthur intended turning that around before the day was out. He’d jokingly threatened to lock Merlin in the flat until Arthur had at least equalled Merlin’s takings for the day (the cheeky oik had claimed there weren’t enough weeks left in the market’s run for that to happen!). Arthur wasn’t quite sure when they changed from being unable to stand each other to being friends, but it had definitely happened. And Arthur liked Merlin. It was just a pity that he didn’t think it was reciprocated.

“Arthur!”

Uther was right there in front of the stall, dressed in a thick, tailored winter coat and smiling happily.

That last part never boded well for Arthur.

“Father.” Arthur carried on noting down the sale, then replaced the purchased items on the display. “Did you want to buy something?”

That wasn’t the best thing to say. Of course Uther took it the wrong way.

“Are sales not going well? Arthur, we’ve entrusted you with this. Morgana is depending on you. And where’s that young man who’s supposed to be helping you? Wayne, was it?”

“Gwaine. And he left. I’ve found a replacement who’s working out very well. Ah, here he is.”

Arthur waved to Merlin, who was making his way through the crowds as he headed back from Arthur’s flat, the cupholder tray full of teas in his hands.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, taking one of the teas from the tray, “this is my father.”

Merlin smiled at Uther, then handed over the remaining teas to Will and Hunith. They’d all given up on poor Gwen who simply had to swig from her water bottle whenever she got a moment. Food stalls were just too busy.

“Good to meet you, Sir,” Merlin stuck out a hand. Uther gazed at it for a moment then reluctantly shook it.

“Is this one of your _friends,_ Arthur?” Uther asked warily.

When Uther said _friends_ in that particular tone, it didn’t mean friends in general, it meant _is this a gay person with whom you might well be having **relations** with in which case perhaps I should wash my hands now_? Perhaps not those exact words, but that was the general meaning behind it. It wasn’t that Uther hadn’t accepted that Arthur was gay, it was just that he simply was never going to be entirely happy about it. And he was always going to ensure that Arthur was aware of that.

Strangely Morgana and Gwen did not have the same problem with him. Uther appeared to like Gwen very much. Still, it would take a fairly miserable sort of person _not_ to like Gwen, Arthur realised. But then it would also take a fairly miserable sort of person not to like Merlin either.

“Merlin’s mother works at the next stall,” Arthur explained, gesturing towards the Lavender Farm shed, where Hunith was sipping her tea whilst talking to some shoppers. “When Gwaine let me down, she kindly called her son in to help. Merlin’s been great with the customers. Morgana’s sales are going to be way up this year.”

“Ah,” the smile returned to Uther’s face. No doubt it was because he wrongly assumed Merlin was not one of _those_ people after all. “Excellent. Well done, Merlin. Good work. Fine work. Well, I’m just here to report back for Morgana.” He looked around at the stall for a moment, then pulled out his phone and took a few pictures.

Merlin glanced worriedly at Arthur, who just shook his head. Arthur was used to his family and their ways. It was embarrassing sometimes.

“Perhaps you’d like to buy Morgana some gifts?” Merlin ventured. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut while they were ahead! “The Lavender Farm sells some good products. Mum!”

Hunith had just finished with her customers, and came over. “Yes dear?”

“This is Arthur’s dad, he’s come down to see how things are going, and to get his daughter some gifts. Have you got any of that lavender sleep spray left? I bet she would love that if she’s in pain from her leg!”

“Of course!” Hunith beamed at Uther, and gestured towards her stall. “Come over here, I have just the thing. Oh, it’s so nice to meet you. Arthur is _such_ a lovely young man, you must be _so_ proud of him…”

Arthur watched his father being swept away by Hunith. Uther was far too polite (to everyone but Arthur) to do anything but go along with it. Arthur hoped that Hunith got a large sale out of it. She deserved it just for moving Uther along. And Merlin probably deserved a bonus!

Merlin was just standing there smirking to himself. When he realised Arthur was looking at him his eyes widened innocently and he spread his hands.

“What? I was being helpful!”

Arthur couldn’t help laughing. And as it was exactly what Uther had done to Arthur when he’d left him with no choice but to man Morgana’s stall, Arthur had little or no sympathy.

“Oh you were!” Arthur could see Hunith bringing out a large paper bag and starting to fill it up. Uther looked happy enough to be given present suggestions, and Morgana would probably like the Christmas gifts, so no harm was done.

“What did he mean though, when he said _friends_ like that? Do you run with hardened criminals or something?” Merlin asked curiously. “It was strange.”

Arthur shrugged, glad that they were having a few quiet moments between customers so that he could say what he’d been wanting to for a couple of days. “No, he just struggles a little sometimes because I’m gay.”

“Gay?” Merlin repeated. “You… oh. Oh! So… not homophobic?” he broke into a huge, delighted smile. Too delighted, really, for what wasn’t a huge piece of news. Arthur tried hard not to wonder if there might be some other reason for the delight.

“No! I was just angry with everyone the other night because I’m always being forced to help with this stall in some way – you’ve seen the state of my flat. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And for what it’s worth, I’m really sorry.”

Merlin didn’t stop grinning. “And I’m sorry I called you a posh prat,” he replied. “You’re not. But” – he glanced at the next stall where Uther was still probably being fleeced by Hunith – “your dad might be!”

Arthur laughed at that. “He is! He’s mostly accepting, and he’s fine with Morgana and Gwen, it’s just… he doesn’t understand with me. I think… it’s because he can see how anyone would find a woman attractive but doesn’t understand how a man… because he’s a man…” Arthur struggled to find the right words. It was difficult because he didn’t really understand it himself.

“Probably fancies Gwen!” Merlin snorted, then realised what he’d said and covered his mouth, horrified. “Oh, no… I didn’t mean that! Oh, I’m sorry Arthur!”

But Arthur was still laughing, mostly because of Merlin’s appalled expression and desperate attempts to make amends. “Please say that when you meet Morgana,” he begged. “Not when Gwen’s around, obviously. But please… my sister is far and away the favourite sibling.”

Merlin opened his mouth as if he was going to reply, but was interrupted before he could start.

“Excuse me young man,” a jolly lady in a festive Santa hat said. “How much is this bauble?”

Ever professional (well, mostly), Merlin turned away from Arthur to help her. But he was smiling.

\---

Saturday at the Markets was hell on earth. Two hundred and forty five coachloads of market tourists descended on Camelot. There were barriers up at the train station to deal with the expected queues going home later. There wasn’t room to breathe, let alone walk around. The musical entertainment that the market organisers had put on didn’t help. Carol singers, brass bands, individual wailers… Arthur knew he had been wise in previous years to move back in with his father during the dark days of the markets.

Sunday wasn’t much better.

When Sunday night arrived Arthur almost cried with relief. He collapsed on his sofa next to Merlin.

“I don’t think I have the energy to even order pizza,” Merlin sighed, curling up against the arm of the sofa and resting his head on it.

“There are two more weekends,” Arthur growled darkly. “Two more! And the weeks in between as well!”

“At least there won’t be any more bands for a few days,” Will grumbled. “I reckon I’m half-deaf from that woman blowing her bloody horn in my ear when I told them to put a sock in it!”

“It was a bit rude of you, Will dear,” Hunith pointed out. “And she was very nice to me, bought a bottle of my lavender gin.”

Lavender gin sounded grim, but Arthur wasn’t about to tell Hunith that. It was a delicate shade of purple and looked bizarre, but it seemed to be selling well. He turned to ask Merlin what the gin was like, but immediately realised that he wasn’t going to get a reply.

Merlin was fast asleep.

\---

When Merlin awoke, for a moment or two he wasn’t sure where he was.

The lights were off, and he was lying on a sofa. He wasn’t at home though, the sofa was expensive leather and wasn’t in dire need of either replacing or reupholstering. It also didn’t reek of lavender.

The streetlamp outside the window provided a very small amount of illumination, enough to tell him that he was in Arthur’s living room, on Arthur’s sofa. Someone had thoughtfully covered him with a blanket.

He sat up, because no matter how comfortable the sofa was, it was still a sofa and the chances of getting a crick in his neck were high. Also he thought he had probably outstayed his welcome and should get home. His mum and Will would have taken the car though and a taxi was going to be expensive. Merlin picked up his phone from the coffee table. It was flashing with a stupid alert about the news and that was probably what had woken him up, he realised. He really needed to change his app settings. He turned on the torch, hoping to sneak out without disturbing Arthur too much.

Directly in front of him on the table was a note written in Arthur’s very neat and precise handwriting:

_“Dear Merlin, hope you slept well. We all decided not to disturb you as you looked so comfortable. You’re welcome to use the spare room bed if you wake up in the middle of the night and if you can get past all the boxes. See you in the morning. Arthur, Will, Gwen, Mum. PS there is cold pizza in the fridge, I’ll bring you in a change of clothes tomorrow xxx.”_

Merlin couldn’t help rolling his eyes at the way they’d all signed it and the way his mum had added the last little note about the food. Always trying to look after him. So unlike Arthur’s relationship with his father.

The sofa was way more comfortable than any sofa Merlin had ever slept on before, but still the temptation of an actual bed for his tired body was too great to resist. He got up and made his way to the bathroom. It was decidedly less pristine in there than it had been before they’d all started using the place as a public convenience, but still it was posher than anything Merlin was used to. Arthur had a really great flat and Merlin was going to miss visiting it once the temporary job was over. He was going to miss Arthur as well. Arthur wasn’t just good-looking, he was exactly Merlin’s type. Well, truthfully he was Merlin’s fantasy type because handsome and blonde and fit just wasn’t the type Merlin felt that he could ever hope to attain. And Arthur was such a decent bloke as well. His family were totally taking advantage of his good nature and he didn’t seem to be able to say no to them. Over the past few days Merlin had learned a little more about the setup with the markets and with work. It sounded as if Arthur were being taken completely for granted. At work, particularly, it sounded as if he did everything, at least as far as the things his family were supposed to be doing. The others that Arthur had spoken about seemed to be a lot better and more supportive. But Uther and Morgana were something else.

And now Arthur was kindly allowing Merlin to stop over. He let them all crash in his flat every evening. He was so far removed from the posh prat that Merlin had first assumed him to be that it was laughable.

Merlin had a job application in at Pendragon Antiques. He had applied a few weeks back and it was probably too late to do anything about it, though he did wonder whether or not to let Arthur know. The trouble was, if he said anything then Arthur might think he was after special treatment. And if he didn’t say anything and by some miracle was called for interview and Arthur was on the panel then that would be awkward. Merlin genuinely hadn’t known who Arthur was at first, but the company name on the personnel form, and confirmation that Arthur was quite high up in the company, and then finally Uther himself turning up at the stall… no, there was no doubt in Merlin’s mind that he was working with one of the most senior staff at Pendragon Antiques. And what Arthur was going to think about that reference request that Merlin had made…

No, it would be fine. It was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask for. But he did think he ought to tell Arthur about the job application at some point. Just in case.

There were five doors in the little landing area in Arthur’s flat. One led back to the living room. One led to the stairs. One was the bathroom that Merlin had just emerged from and the other two were the bedrooms.

The trouble was, Merlin couldn’t remember which led to the spare room. Both doors were slightly ajar. For a moment he wondered if he should head back for the sofa. But he was fairly sure it was the door on the left. It was usually wide open during the day, when Gwen would dash back to pick up more stock on a regular basis.

Carefully, just in case it was the wrong room, Merlin pushed the door open. It creaked horribly loudly and Merlin winced. Cautiously he peeked inside, expecting to see piles of boxes all over the floor. Instead the carpet had clothes strewn across it and the bed was already occupied.

“Oops!” Merlin muttered and stepped back quickly. Too quickly, he tripped over his own feet and managed to fall over onto his arse. “Ow!”

“Oh my god,” came a familiar grumpy voice. “I should have known you’d find the gin!”

As Merlin scrambled to his feet a very sleepy-looking and dishevelled Arthur appeared in the doorway. He was shirtless, which was even more delicious than it had been in Merlin’s fantasies. Merlin could actually feel his brain turning to lust-filled mush at the sight.

“I fell over!”

“So I see.”

“Sorry! I was trying to be quiet!”

Arthur smirked at that, and Merlin could guess the sort of comment that he was about to receive. But Arthur must have either been feeling kind or tired because he just shook his head and pushed open the adjoining door then flicked on the light switch in there.

“The spare room’s there. Your mum’s bringing clothes in the morning.”

“Yes, she left a note… well, you both did… Sorry, I was really tired, I must have fallen asleep.”

Arthur nodded. “You looked done in so we just left you. You missed some good pizza though!”

Merlin nodded sadly. He felt really hungry, and at that moment his stomach gave a loud growl, letting what was probably the whole street know just how hungry he was. He clutched at it in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

Arthur nodded, stepped back into his room and then reappeared a moment later with (sadly) a white towelling dressing gown covering that gorgeous torso. Merlin tried hard not to make any sort of sound of disappointment. He’d embarrassed himself enough already.

“I’ll make you an omelette,” Arthur offered. “Sounds as if you’re starving.”

It sounded much better than the cold pizza that his mum had mentioned in the note so Merlin just accepted happily and trotted along to the kitchen behind Arthur. He sat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar and watched Arthur work.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” Merlin commented. There was plenty going into that omelette – herbs and tomato and cheese. It was soon smelling very good indeed.

“I live alone, it’s a case of cook or starve!” Arthur told him. “I suppose your mum does all the cooking?”

“I can cook!” Merlin protested, although Arthur wasn’t entirely wrong. “I had to look after myself while I was at uni!”

“Beans on toast and boiled eggs?” Arthur guessed. Again he wasn’t entirely wrong but Merlin wasn’t going to admit to that one.

“I can heat up a pie as well!”

Arthur laughed at that one. “I bet you can! Applying for Bake Off next year, are you?”

“I could apply…” Merlin laughed. “ _Anyone_ could apply!”

“True,” Arthur slid the omelette out onto a plate, and then handed it over to Merlin. “There you go. See if I should apply.”

It was a pretty good omelette. Merlin couldn’t help making appreciative noises as he devoured it.

“Aw, this is delicious Arthur! You could give up on your day job and turn this place into a hotel!”

Arthur reached across and snuck a forkful of the omelette, then went for another taste causing Merlin to smack his hand.

“No. Mine! Personally made for me by the head chef! Ah, this is the best hotel, where else do you get room service in the middle of the night by the owner?”

Arthur didn’t make any comment on that, and when Merlin looked up he saw that his friend was actually blushing.

“Ah, I didn’t mean… not… um… That wasn’t what I meant,” Merlin spluttered, blushing furiously himself as the other meaning became apparent. “Sorry, sorry! Oh, you’re kind and gorgeous and make me food and let me stay over and then I go and say something stupid and make it all awkward and now you probably want me to go!”

“I don’t want you to go,” Arthur assured him. “But… _gorgeous?_ ”

Merlin shrugged, embarrassed, not really knowing where to look. “I meant… well, you are. I mean… just a nice person and all that. And… well… obviously you’re… well, you’re…” He gave up. “I don’t want to make it awkward, Arthur. I like you a lot, I really do, and I’m tired and stupid things are coming out of my mouth.”

“That does tend to happen whether you’re tired or not,” Arthur pointed out, not entirely unfairly but still…

“Oi!” Merlin protested, but Arthur was smiling at him so that had to be a good thing.

“Hmmm. But let’s talk about this liking thing. That was interesting. Tell me more about it.” Arthur pulled another stool up very close to Merlin’s and perched on it. He was watching Merlin’s expression intently. It was difficult for Merlin to tear his own gaze away from those blue eyes. Up close they were even more beautiful.

“Don’t tease me,” Merlin whispered. “I know you probably only date male models and rich people.”

“What?” Arthur spluttered, laughing again. “Merlin!”

“You’re laughing at me!”

Arthur’s face grew very serious, and he reached out to take Merlin’s hand. “Merlin, I swear to you, I am not laughing at you. Not about this. You are the best thing that’s happened to me in a long, long time. I like _you_ very much indeed. So I would like to hear all about you liking me too. And for the record, male models are vastly overrated and often incredibly vacuous and boring. As for the other thing, I am only interested in the person, not in how much money they have. You are very interesting,” he leaned in closer. “Very, very interesting.”

Merlin didn’t wait to hear more. He closed the gap and kissed Arthur, moaning gently against his mouth as Arthur pulled Merlin against him. It was a long, deep kiss and Merlin wished it would never end. Arthur’s arms felt so strong, his body so warm.

“Finally,” Arthur breathed as they broke apart for a moment. “Gods, Merlin, I’ve wanted to do that for days! You have no idea.”

“Oh I do,” Merlin assured him. “I really do.”

There was another question in Arthur’s eyes, though he hadn’t given voice to it. Merlin knew it, because he had the same question himself. Perhaps they would regret it in the morning. Perhaps it would make working together really awkward. Perhaps it would be the most brilliant thing ever.

“I don’t want to sleep in the spare room,” Merlin whispered.

Arthur stood up, and held out his hand. Merlin took it.

The remains of the omelette lay on the counter, totally forgotten.

\---

Arthur didn’t regret a thing. He was pretty certain that Merlin didn’t either.

Will had rolled his eyes at them in the morning as soon as they’d hit a quiet spell and started cuddling outside the shed. Hunith had looked a little worried, but then that was probably just what mothers did.

The following night Merlin had briefly gone home. He’d packed a bag and then came back on into town again. Shagging your employee probably wasn’t the most respectable of career moves but then it was only a temporary job and Arthur wasn’t really Merlin’s boss. Not if you squinted. A lot. No, really it was Morgana so that was okay.

That was what Arthur told himself, anyway. And within a few weeks Merlin wouldn’t be his employee or Morgana’s, so everything would be fine. He would help Merlin find another job, a permanent one. It would need to be in Camelot so that Merlin could continue to stay with Arthur, obviously. All would be well. But still, Arthur was going to miss being with him every day.

The remaining two weeks of the markets flew past. Merlin came up with ideas for better promotion of the stall. It gained a twitter account after Merlin found a deformed bauble in one of the boxes of stock, and gave that bauble a personality as being the bauble nobody wanted to buy. Of course, _everyone_ wanted to buy it after that. Arthur had to call Morgana and get her to produce more misshapen baubles. They were in the local paper (the journalist wanted an interview with Bertie the Bauble. Arthur had rolled his eyes _so_ hard…), Merlin had to write a little piece on Bertie for the website… it was ridiculous.

It was also the most fun Arthur could ever remember having. Yes, it was hard work. Yes, the music was often awful (but also often quite good) and yes, when the fake snow machine started up during week two it was beyond tacky. But Arthur did not want those market to ever end. Because when they did he wouldn’t be spending all day every day with Merlin.

But time passed, and eventually Arthur found himself on the final day of the markets.

In years gone by it was a day that he had longed for. That year it was a day that he had dreaded.

Eight o’clock at night came and went, and the stalls all began to shut down. Arthur and Merlin started to box up the remaining stock ready to take it back to the flat. Morgana would arrange for it to be picked up sometime in the next few days. Or she’d said she would. More likely she would ask Arthur to do it. Or ask Uther to tell Arthur to do it.

There wasn’t actually that much left. Sales had gone very well. Next to them Hunith and Will were also packing up. They had apparently had a record year for takings. Arthur didn’t know whether Morgana’s sales were going to be higher than the previous year because she’d been quite cagey about that but he suspected it would be the case.

Gwen, of course, had made shedloads of money. She always did well, her bakes were very popular. The addition of hot chocolate that year had simply increased profits. Arthur was glad for her. He knew she was proud and liked to be able to try to keep up with Morgana financially if she could. Obviously she could never compete with the Pendragon fortune, but she had earned every penny of her money herself and could pay her own way. There were almost no boxes left in the flat from Gwen – everything had been sold.

“It’s been a very good year,” Gwen smiled as she started to take down all the signs and decorations from her stall.

“For all of us,” Arthur agreed, deciding that was a good excuse to pull Merlin in for a kiss. Most things would be a good excuse for that, he thought, now that they wouldn’t keep getting interrupted by customers.

“Oh no, think of the children!” called a familiar Irish accent.

Arthur turned to find Gwaine standing there with one a very tall, very muscular man. Arthur supposed this must be Percival. To be fair to Gwaine, Arthur could see exactly why the wine stall would prove more attractive. And it had all turned out very well for Arthur too. He was actually feeling quite grateful towards Gwaine.

“That my replacement?” Gwaine asked, nodding towards Merlin.

“If you’re the jerk who left Arthur in the lurch here then yes,” Merlin snapped.

“Ooh feisty, I like it,” Gwaine grinned. “Looks like I did you a favour, Arthur!”

Arthur wasn’t going to deny it. “I suppose you did. I knew you’d be useful for something one day, Gwaine! Now, introduce your new friend and then make yourself useful again. You can help us take these boxes back up to the flat.”

He wasn’t surprised when Gwaine and Percival made an excuse and vanished as soon as they could. Not so much Percival, who seemed on brief acquaintance to be friendly, helpful and polite, but Gwaine vanishing was no surprise at all. At least they took a few boxes.

All the surrounding stallholders were tidying up. It took far less time to dismantle all the decorations on the sheds than it had to put them up. Soon enough the sheds were looking quite bare. Some of them were already closed, their occupants gone. The next day the Council would be round to start taking the structures down ready to pack away for another year. By the end of the week there would be nothing to show that the sheds were ever there.

“Arthur!”

It was another familiar voice, this time a female one. Arthur wasn’t entirely surprised to see Morgana hobbling towards him on her crutches. She had probably been watching from a corner somewhere, waiting for them to finish packing up so that she didn’t have to do any work herself.

“Watch out,” Arthur warned Merlin. “It’s my sister.”

Merlin put down the box of carefully-packed signs and notices that he’d gathered together, and stood almost to attention as Morgana approached.

“I remember her. Is she going to pay me?”

“She’d better,” Arthur warned. “You deserve a bonus. And I’m going to give you one later,” he added in a whisper, making Merlin laugh and shove him. Arthur almost overbalanced, and accidentally kicked one of the boxes.

“Careful with those,” Morgana warned. “Honestly, Arthur, it’s a wonder you sold anything!”

Arthur barely even noticed the jibe, far too used to it. But beside him, Merlin bristled, regardless of the fact that Morgana was his employer.

“Don’t you mean thank you?” Merlin asked her. “Your brother’s run this stall for you all through the markets. He says you didn’t even pay him for it! You could at least be polite about it.”

Morgana never, ever had people speak to her like that because, well, she was _Morgana!_ She regarded Merlin with curiosity for a moment, then shrugged. “You’re Merlin, aren’t you?” she asked. “Didn’t Arthur trip you over when we were setting things up here?”

“An accident,” Merlin told her firmly.

“Yes, well thank you for your help, I gather we’ve had a very good year and I suspect that was your doing.”

“Mine and _Arthur’s_ ,” Merlin agreed.

It was strange having someone standing up for him. Still, Merlin didn’t have siblings and probably didn’t understand how things were.

“It’s okay, Merlin, she’s my sister, that’s just how she is,” Arthur explained.

“Arthur’s worked really hard to hold your business together,” Merlin persisted. “It’s not okay,” he added to Arthur. “Your dad and your sister know you’ll do anything you can to help them and they both seem to me to be taking advantage of that.

Morgana looked stunned. “I certainly don’t!”

“His spare room is full of the stock from this place. Well, only partly now because we’ve sold most of it. But he has all your stock, and all Gwen’s stock. He worries in the morning in his own home in case you’ll just walk in when… er… when he’s having breakfast because you apparently don’t even ring the bell. That’s really bad! You wouldn’t like it if he did that to you and Gwen. Arthur has a right to privacy too!”

“Not just Arthur, I assume,” Morgana pointed out slyly. “ _Breakfast_ , is it Merlin?”

Merlin’s face flushed a little but his expression remained indignant. Arthur thought that it made him even more loveable if that were possible. “We shouldn’t have to lock the bedroom door in a private flat!”

Morgana regarded Merlin for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right, of course you are. Arthur, I’m sorry. Thank you for what you’ve done here. And I promise I’ll always ring the bell before coming in.”

Arthur supposed it was time to fit a security door chain, but he kept that to himself. “Thank you.”

Morgana nodded to him approvingly, then turned to Merlin. “So, I suppose we should have a proper introduction. I’m Morgana, Arthur’s sister. Yes, he does what I tell him. But you hurt him and I will hurt _you_. Are we clear?”

Merlin gaped at her for a moment, then recovered and reached out to shake the hand she was offering. “Yes. Absolutely! Merlin Emrys, ma’am. Good to meet you properly.”

Arthur had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the end of it, but at least they seemed to be letting it go for the time being. He could hardly wait to see what Merlin would say to Uther when he was introduced again, this time as Arthur’s boyfriend.

“You know, your name is familiar,” Morgana mused, eyeing Merlin curiously. “I thought that when the employee setup form came through a few weeks back. I’ve got a Merlin Emrys amongst the applications for the Customer Liaison Manager post at the moment. Is that you?”

Arthur froze. In their time together, Merlin had never mentioned that he’d applied for the vacancy at Pendragon Antiques. There was no reason for him to hide it – unless he had been playing Arthur the whole time, just trying to find out about the company and ingratiate himself.

It wouldn’t have been the first time someone did that to him, but he found it hard to believe that Merlin would. Merlin meant so much more to Arthur already, even after only a few weeks. The betrayal, if that was what it was, would hurt so much more. But the guilt was written all over Merlin’s face. And then he confirmed it.

“Yes. That’s me.”

Oh. Merlin had wanted a reference. It was one of the first things he had asked for. He’d failed to mention that it was for a job at Pendragon Antiques though. Arthur frowned at Merlin, who looked increasingly uncomfortable. 

Arthur felt so hurt and betrayed that he thought he was going to be sick. Not Merlin. Merlin was the one that… well, Arthur had been starting to wonder whether he might just be _the_ one. The thought that he might not be was just too much to bear.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Were you playing me?” he demanded. “Was all this because you were just hoping to get a job at the end of it. Was… was everything we’ve had just a lie?” His voice broke. It was hard not to cry right there and then because he couldn’t bear the thought that Merlin might have lied to him. He loved Merlin so much.

“No!” Merlin exclaimed. “No, Arthur. Absolutely not! That was just a stupid job application, I applied weeks before I came here. I apply for _any_ jobs in that field. My degree is in Fine Arts. Interesting but useless. I didn’t know until we filled in my employee form that you were anything to do with Pendragon Antiques. You were just introduced as Arthur!” Merlin sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes wearily, then continued. “I realised who your father was when he came round and then knew who you must be and I wanted to tell you after that, but it just never seemed to be the right time. And anyway, I almost never get interviews and I supposed I wouldn’t for this one either and you’d never know and it wouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter anyway, because I would never, ever play you. Ever.”

He looked so sincere when he said it and Arthur wanted so much to believe him. He could see tears standing out in Merlin's eyes. There were tears in Arthur’s eyes too, because losing Merlin would rip him apart. 

“Please, Arthur, I need you to believe me on this,” Merlin begged. “I don’t want you to be my boss. I want you to carry on being my boyfriend. Just rip up the application, I withdraw it. I don’t want the job. I want you.”

That was more than enough for Arthur.

“I believe you,” Arthur told him quietly, taking his hand and pulling him close. “Gods, Merlin, I’m sorry I even had a moment of doubt. I... I love you.”

Merlin gazed at him, wide-eyed. A single tear spilled over and ran down his cheek. Arthur reached up and tenderly wiped it away.

“Really?” Merlin whispered.

In answer, Arthur leaned in and kissed him.

“Love you too,” Merlin murmured against Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin. Merlin felt so warm and alive. He felt like happiness. Arthur never wanted to let him go.

A pointed cough from Morgana eventually caused them to pull apart. They stood there with their arms around each other, smiling contentedly. Arthur was wondering how quickly he could get Merlin alone. Perhaps Morgana could be persuaded to leave soon.

“That’s wonderful, if a little nauseating. I’m very happy for you both,” she told them. “But you know Arthur wouldn’t be your boss with that job, Merlin? The post reports to me, and while I’m away it will report to my stand-in, Leon. Not Arthur. And judging by how well you’ve done here, I don’t want you to withdraw your application. So, consider this an offer to interview. You’ll be on the shortlist purely from your sales work. I _loved_ Bertie the Bauble’s twitter by the way. You don’t get away that easily.”

Merlin glanced at Arthur questioningly. Arthur just shrugged. “Fine by me. You can’t be worse than George!”

“Oh god no!” Morgana exclaimed. “George is driving Uther insane! Arthur, you need to come back to the office as soon as possible because George is going to drive our father into an early grave! Also Merlin, you have to continue with your application because George is just… not right for the job. Now, did someone say something about pizza night? Gwen!” She hobbled off towards Gwen, who was just finishing packing up her own stall. Perfect timing by Morgana, who wouldn't have to lift a finger to help.

Arthur supposed he was going to have to explain about George and his collection of antique brass doorknobs at some point because Merlin was starting to look concerned. Arthur could well imagine that Merlin’s soft heart was worrying about turfing someone out of their job.

“He’s from a temp agency,” Arthur explained. “Very efficient. Too efficient. Terrifying. I’m so glad my father is enjoying working with him!”

Merlin smiled again, which was what Arthur had hoped for.

“Okay,” Merlin agreed. “I’ll go for it, if it really isn’t going to cause any problems between us. Because you’re what’s important to me, Arthur.”

“And you to me,” Arthur admitted. “So do it.” He kissed Merlin again, because he could, then they stood there, arms around each other, looking at the closed-down market. “You know, I feel sort of sad that it’s all over. It’s been a pretty special few weeks.”

“You don’t hate them anymore?” Merlin queried, teasing him.

Arthur looked around again. He thought of the crowds, the difficulty moving around the city, the fake snow, the non-stop Christmas themed music… And then he thought of Merlin standing there in their shed… no, _chalet_ , that was what the stall-holders called them…

“Maybe they’re not so bad,” he admitted. “But I am never, _ever_ manning one again! Not even with you!”

And he didn’t.

But by the following year they really couldn’t move in the flat for all the boxes of stock. It wasn't just from Gwen and Morgana’s stalls but now Hunith’s as well.

After all, Arthur could hardly refuse his soon-to-be mother-in-law…

\-----

**Author's Note:**

> Nov 2020 note:  
> This entire story was based on our Christmas markets here in Bath. They take over the entire city every year and it's a nightmare if you work in the centre. (Well worth a visit if you don't live here though, they're very pretty) Although I did appreciate them a lot more last year while I was wandering round researching this fic. 
> 
> (Of course, in 2020 we aren't going to have them and aren't working in the city centre either. Morgana really did pick a terrible year for her sabbatical!)


End file.
